


battle scars

by brightly_brightly



Series: flare out with love love love [3]
Category: POI - Fandom, Person Of Interest - Fandom
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Healing, Scars, i guess none of my fics are canon anymore but do i give a fuck no no i do not, kissin and touchin, post-Samaritan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 08:24:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7501104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightly_brightly/pseuds/brightly_brightly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You can't have a four alarm fire in an oil refinery without getting a little singed. Can you?"</p><p>Root has insecurities, Shaw has a way with words.</p><p>This was one of the first fics I wrote, over a year ago, (hence the attempt to use past tense). It's definitely not the same style as my more recent stuff, but I hope you like it.</p><p>Also I had the stuff about Root getting shot in there before the Very Bad Episode. hashtag called it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	battle scars

The only discernible sounds in the safe-house were the low hum of the back-up generators (wedged into the master bedroom, with the AC cranked down to 60), and the steady tapping of Harold typing, as he had been for the past two hours, furiously racing through the last leg of getting the Machine back to full capacity. There was no sign of Shaw or Bear. They'd been out for a walk for almost half an hour now, despite the downpour. 

Root, curled up on the sofa, fidgeted and tapped first one foot, then the other. She was on a fair amount of painkillers, so she couldn't even THINK about coding or hacking or helping Harold. Which was awful. Her brain hurt and was foggy, her heart hurt for the Machine, and her body... well. 

Root was struggling with two things: one, breathing (apparently a bullet ripping through the right side of your body could compromise a lung, and four bullets glancing off your ribs in quick succession could almost collapse the other, or so Shaw had said), and two, itching. The wide swath of bandages plastered to her side was sticky and hot and itched like the devil. The skin around her injury felt fevered and, last time she'd peeked, was an angry red. Shaw had warned her not to touch it, but Shaw wasn't there right now....Root began surreptitiously rubbing at the bandage. It felt so good just to get rid of that itch for a second. She slid her hand under her loose tee shirt and gave it a proper scratch, sighing in relief.

"Hey!" 

Short-lived relief. Shaw and Bear, dripping puddles and splashes of rainwater everywhere, emerged from the shadowy foyer.

"Root!" Shaw charged over, "Stop that!"

Root slowed the scratching but didn't stop. Bear ambled over to investigate.

Root let out a pitiful whimper; "but Sameen, it itches."

Shaw sat down next to Root and put her hand over Root's still-scratching fingers. She gripped them firmly and eased them out from under Root's shirt. Shaw's touch was careful and much gentler than Root could have expected.

"Don't do that," Shaw insisted softly, "the human hand is basically a breeding ground of bacteria and foreign particles. You'll infect your injury if you touch it."

Root sniffed forlornly, the itching was back. It was so intense it was actually painful.

"I think it might already be."

"Here, let me see." Shaw dropped to a crouch in front of Root. She waited for her to pull up her shirt.

"Doesn't smell infected. Looks ok too, just a little raw. Have you been taking the antibiotics."

"Every five hours, like you said."

"Hang on."

Shaw disappeared into the kitchen and came back moments later with an ice pack wrapped in a towelette.

"Try this on the skin around the bandage, but not the bandage itself."

"Thanks." Root sighed in palpable relief as the ice chased away the heat and the burn and itch from her skin. "You take such good care of me."

"Hmph." Shaw replied, leaning onto Root's shoulder. 

"Sweetie, you're dripping water all over me."

Shaw smirked evilly. 

"Sameen, if the human hands are a breeding ground of bacteria, is that why you always wash your hands before you-"

"Oh my god, stop." 

"Because in that case I really should wash my hands too. I wouldn't want to introduce any bacteria to your-"

"Root! I will take that ice pack and gag you with it."

Just for good measure, Shaw squeezed some of the rainwater out of her hair onto Root's thigh.

"Now you're making me all wet."

"You better behave or that's the only kind of wet you'll get for a long time."

Root pouted. Feeling Shaw relax into her shoulder, she sighed contentedly.

"I love it when you play doctor."

 

Eight months later:

The itching had stopped and Root could breathe regularly again. She could walk and talk too, but things like dodging and running and fighting were pretty much off the table for her for good.

The Machine sent her, and Shaw for back-up, to Colorado to do some liaising. The trip involved a bribe in the form of a new bang bang toy for Shaw (Root's description) and a new cocktail dress and fuck-me-boots for Root (Shaw's description). There was some kind of banquet, and Root had to be charming.

Shaw had to be there. Which, well, Shaw could handle that. A weekend in a hotel with her girl, free gourmet food, and a boss new gun to sweeten the deal. Yeah. The Machine was getting on her good side for sure.

The gun kept Shaw amused in their shared hotel room for almost the entire time it took Root to get changed. They had a whole afternoon before their banquet, so Shaw didn't mind too much when Root took forever in the bath. 

After an hour and a half, though, Root had yet to emerge from the bathroom. Shaw took it upon herself to investigate.

"You didn't drown yourself in there did you?"

Root stood in front of the mirror, naked except for a pair of black panties clearly engineered for showing off. But Root wasn't showing off or even looking at her panties or her long, silky, pale legs. She was staring fretfully at the fresh scar on her side. Her face was pinched in and she gave a wistful sigh every few minutes. 

When she noticed Shaw peering in, Root bristled, but didn't stop her examination.

"What are you doing?" Shaw asked, coming up behind Root.

Root shrugged.

"Been in here for a while."

"Sorry."

They stood in silence, both staring at Root's body in the mirror. If Shaw had a galaxy of scars hidden underneath her clothes, Root had a smallish constellation. There were fewer marks, but they were brighter, and all a lot more recent. There were the needle marks on her arm and the jagged incision behind her ear (easily covered by hair), courtesy of Control. There were bullet scars on her bicep and shoulder, a few debris scars on her calves, some lines and swirls, some burn marks, and a fairly deep stabbing scar on her hip. Then there were those awful, awful, abdominal scars. They stood out in varying shades of pink and red on her fair skin. The oldest were an almost-translucent white, practically invisible. The scar on her side was the worst one, an angry, purplish red, swollen coil that looked almost like a piece of rope wrapping her ribs. 

"Pretty gross, huh? Not exactly the kind of souvenir I'd expected from the destruction of Samaritan."

"No," was all Shaw had to say about that.

She stepped forward and loosely hugged Root from behind, most of her face appearing over Root's shoulder. Shaw trailed her hand down Root's side.

"That voice in your head that's telling you a scar like this means you can't be pretty? Tell it to shut the fuck up."

"It's kind of distracting."

"Distracting to who? You? Because ninety percent of the time you can't even see this part of your body."

Root sniffed. "I know, but sometimes a girl wants to feel sexy, maybe put on some revealing lingerie and her nicest pair of handcuffs for the viewing pleasure of her favorite gal pal. All kinds of things a person might want to do that a huge, disfiguring scar like this makes sort of impossible, or at least uncomfortable." 

"You think this scar makes you less sexy?" Shaw was incredulous. "Root. Rooooot. Don't make me say it."

"You don't have to try to make me feel better about it, Shaw."

"Ughh," Shaw turned Root away from the mirror until they were face to face. 

She rolled one fingertip from the cap of Root's shoulder, down her bicep, letting her touch linger on the crook of Root's arm, just over her veins. 

"You have something I'll never have, Root."

"Ability to reach high up shelves?"

"You're delicate," Shaw drew her finger down Root's forearm, to her palm, until they were clasping hands.

Shaw wrapped her other arm around Root's back, drew her in close, until she could feel the heartbeat in Root's neck beneath her lips. 

"You're delicate but strong, like a bowstring- or more powerful, but ethereal, like, uh... lightning."

"I'm like lightning?" Shaw didn't have to look at Root's face to know her eyebrows were raised in amusement.

"Yeah, lightning." 

She caressed Root's stomach, her scars, her hip. Root stood there, arms loose around Shaw, slightly bewildered by Shaw's determined affection.

"Looking at you never fails to turn me on, the way you move, the angles of your face, your breasts. God..."

Shaw tilted her head so she could kiss Root on one breast and fondle the other. She may have gotten a little distracted, getting handsy and licky with Root's nipples..

"Shaw," Root gave her a squeeze and breathed out a laugh, "I know you're attracted to me. You don't have to prove anything."

"Mmm, this isn't about me being attracted to you. This is about you remembering that..."

Shaw trailed off and dropped down in front of Root. She pushed forward and kissed Root, just below the navel. Root instinctively sank her fingers into Shaw's hair. Shaw kissed her again, her lips trailing down the soft skin of Root's belly.

She reached up, grazed her fingertips down Root's arms again, up her sides to her breasts, around her back, until she was holding Root by the hips;

"Your body is like home to me," 

Root groaned.

"You're a disgusting Romantic, Sameen."

Shaw kissed the scar, the one Root fretted over so much.

"Every time I see this, I remember about you getting shot."

She slid her hands firmly up the back of Root's thighs, pulling her even closer.

"I remember breaking into that hospital and using their machines to make check that your lung was salvageable, and making Reese steal all those blood bags, and digging that one stubborn slug out, when we almost lost you... and then, ... and then stitching you up."

Shaw kissed the top of Root's sexy black panties, but instead of moving her mouth lower, she moved it to the side.

"I see this scar and I remember the terror I felt rip through me when I thought we were going to lose you- that *I* was going to lose you. That was the first time in my life I ever knew for sure I was afraid, that I can remember."

Shaw spoke against Root's skin, bringing her lips closer to the scar in question. She hovered over it and peeked up at Root, who was staring intently down at her.

"I know that terror I felt when I thought I was going to lose you is the same terror you felt when you thought you lost me. And I know what it means, and you know too." 

Looking steadfastly into Root's eyes, Shaw placed a firm, lingering kiss on the rope of scar tissue. She stood up and wriggled out of her own shirt.

"Look, I have a scar on my ribs too. You've seen it a million times. You spend extra time kissing it any time you go down on me, even if we're in a rush. I -know- what this scar means to you."

Shaw pulled Root's hand to her body so it rested on the scar, three dark smears on her skin where Martine's bullets had lodged deep inside her torso, almost a fatality. Shaw covered Root's scar with her own small, warm palm.

"You can't have a four alarm fire in an oil refinery without getting a little singed. Can you?"

"That's so cheesy, Sameen." Root shook her head, smiling despite herself, "But you are making me feel better."

"Good." 

Root pulled Shaw into a kiss.

"Mmmm, you know you're still the sexiest little psycho I've ever seen, right?" Shaw murmured against Root's lips.

Root shrugged.

"I mean it," Shaw's fingers wandered, driving home her point.

"I... oh... I know."

"Let me know if you need me to tie you up and remind the hell out of you?"

"I promise."

"Did you really bring handcuffs?"

Root just quirked an eyebrow at her and disappeared into the bedroom, Shaw hot on her trail.

"Root? Root, did you? Because I threw some extra zipties in my carry on..."

 

A decade later:

Gen had requested a trip to the Hamptons for her MIT graduation gift. 

"I was going to give her a semi and a membership to my range, but noooo, Harold insisted I work security," Shaw mumbled from behind the steering wheel.

"Who are you talking to?" Root, in the passenger seat, cradled a small ball of fluff in her lap. She'd tried and failed to convince Shaw that said fluff was a dog.

"Talking to myself, Root, since you're too busy patting your rabbit over there,"

"You said I wasn't allowed to pat my rabbit in the car anymore, ever since we got into that teeny little fender bender."

Shaw rolled her eyes and sighed. Root was probably an undiagnosed nymphomaniac. Probably.

"How long do we have until we're at Harold's beach house?"

"Twenty minutes. Harry says we get the master suite. You know what that means, sweetie?"

"That no one will hear your screams?"

Root's eyes glazed over, "I was going to say it means we have a private jacuzzi tub in our bathroom."

"Great. The rabbit can sleep in it at night."

"Pebbles is NOT a rabbit. You're making her sad." Root cooed over the fluffball, which remained, as far as Shaw could tell, completely insentient.

On day two of the Hamptons excursion, Gen and her three closest friends hauled them to the beach. The dog stayed home. Shaw was in charge of the beer cooler. Root was in charge of Shaw.

"Stop squirting me with that water pistol!" Shaw picked up a fistful of sand, "Or I will rub this into your hair."

"Promises, promises, Sameen. You fight almost as dirty as you talk."

"There are children here!"

"Psh, Gen's hardly a child."

"By the time I was 22, I had killed a man. Gen won't even kill a spider."

"You're misremembering. Your first kill didn't happen until you were 29."

"I can't believe you memorized my file. Such a stalker."

"At the time, I preferred the term 'big fan.'"

Shaw snorted and wrenched the top off a beer bottle. Root suddenly invaded Shaw's personal bubble, making one of her begging faces.

"May I have a sip?"

"Did you put sunscreen on?"

Root's face fell, she dove into the giant straw bag she'd packed for the day.

"Oh no! I forgot! and I think I left it at the house."

Shaw jammed her arm back into the cooler, pulling out a chilled tube of sunscreen. 

"Oh Root, I found it. It was in my rucksack."

Root emerged from the bag, all suspiciously wide eyed and innocent. "Would you put some on me? I have hard-to-reach places." She did her best seductive wink/pout combination.

"Fine." 

Root sighed happily (she loved getting her way with Sameen) and scooted back on her towel until she was between Shaw's legs. Shaw locked her calves over Root's lap and undid the knot of her bikini top. It stayed loosely anchored over her shoulders. 

With an evil grin, Shaw squirted a fistful of icy cold sunscreen into her palm, and then splatted it onto Root's back, right between her shoulders.

Root let out a high-pitched squeal and tried to squirm away, but Shaw had her firmly anchored between her legs. She applied more freezing cold sunscreen, tickling Root as she went in concentric circles all over Root's back, shoulders, and arms, Root protested shrilly and wriggled like a toddler. Finally Shaw loosened her grip and retied Root's top. Root slapped Shaw's thigh as hard as she could.

"Shaw! You're not fighting fair!"

"Told you to put some on before we left the house," 

Still laughing, Shaw tugged Root back against her and whispered lowly into her good ear, "and tonight, you're so getting a talking-to for being careless about sun safety."

Root shivered, and not from the chilled sunscreen.

Shaw rubbed more into her palms to warm it up, and then slowly spread it all over Root's sides and her stomach, skirting unnecessarily high up under the edges of her bikini top and lingering just a little longer on the faded white mark on her ribs. She pressed her fingers into the rough tissue, noting Root's sharp intake of breath. It was still a sensitive spot, after all these years.

Shaw kept her hands on Root, giving up any pretext of actually applying sunscreen. 

"I like this, you know," 

"Yeah? This likes you too."

Root grabbed Shaw's hand. She pulled it to her face and kissed Shaw's knuckles. Shaw chuckled and swiped a stripe of sunscreen down Root's nose.

"I'm still scolding you when we get back to the house."

"Can't wait, sweetie."


End file.
